


The Meaning of Husbands

by purplestarfish



Series: The Meaning of... [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety, Asexual Character, Asexual Clint Barton, Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 15:09:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17727551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplestarfish/pseuds/purplestarfish
Summary: Phil is planning his and Clint's wedding, and he needs everything to be perfect.





	The Meaning of Husbands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [johnlocker2020](https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnlocker2020/gifts).



> This is a sequel to The Meaning of Partners, but can probably be read as a standalone too.
> 
> Thanks to johnlocker2020 for requesting this fic! As soon as I read your ideas, I got excited and this just kind of poured out of me. :) Hope you like it and that I captured the different elements you asked for!
> 
> Note: All dialogue is in ASL unless otherwise indicated using italics.
> 
> Warnings: Phil has anxiety that comes up under the stress of wedding planning, though it's mainly under control and Clint helps him with it. Also, Brooklyn Nine-Nine spoilers from season 5!
> 
> Let me know if I've missed any warnings!
> 
>  
> 
> Edit: This fic has now been translated into Russian by the amazing Lady Rin! Check it out at https://ficbook.net/readfic/8436062.

Phil was planning two weddings. It was _exhausting_.

 

On the bright side, the details of the two weddings were going to be pretty much exactly the same, so at least if he could make a goddamn decision about the flowers already, he’d only have to make the decision once. Assuming all the vendors were available for both, there’d only be two main differences between the events: the date and the venue.

 

After a great deal of panic-inducing deliberation, Phil had decided that two weddings was the only realistic way to do this. _Is two weddings really all that realistic?_ Clint had asked, but he’d also accepted it when Phil had said _yes, it won’t be a problem, I promise_ , so Phil figured this mess was at least partially his fault.

 

In any event, there was certainly no option that was _more_ realistic. Phil couldn’t bear the thought of planning an entire wedding and making it to the day only to have aliens take over New York – again – and ruin everything. They were doing this, and there was no way they were starting from scratch. Phil was good at contingency plans.

 

So they had a Plan B wedding, and it was three weeks after their Plan A wedding, out in Vermont just in case anything too destructive happened to New York and they lost the venue.

 

Someone at S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed to have a shotgun wedding at least once a year, so if they didn’t use the Plan B wedding, someone else probably would.

 

When he’d called his mother to tell her about the plan, and to make sure she could book both June 22nd and July 13th off, she’d worried about money. _Weddings are expensive, Phil_ , _you must know that_ , she’d said. And yeah, he did know that. But it wasn’t as though they were going to have a particularly big wedding, that wasn’t either of their style.

 

Besides, one of the benefits of working for S.H.I.E.L.D. was the pay. Sure, he would never be Tony Stark levels of rich, but did anyone really want to be that rich anyway? He figured if he could afford to dress himself in Armani suits at a job where those suits were liable to get more than just tomato sauce spilled on them, he could afford a Plan B wedding.

 

Now, though, he had to actually book the damn things.

 

And apparently planning a wedding – even a small one – was kind of a lot of work.

 

Phil had always been good at paperwork, and events planning didn’t seem all that different from mission planning. So why did the binders seem to be multiplying? And why couldn’t Phil get rid of the constant knots in his stomach?

 

\---

 

When Clint dropped from the ceiling gracefully onto Phil’s office couch at the end of the day, Phil pounced on him.

 

“Are these flower arrangements okay?” he asked, signing the words before passing over a set of photos that he’d printed out earlier. “Because if not, maybe we could do something in a darker shade, but I was worried that the Vermont venue isn’t as bright, and dark flowers could bring the atmosphere down.”

 

This had to be about the hundredth decision Phil had spent hours agonizing over before finally coming to Clint for approval. Why had he told Clint he wanted to be in charge of organizing this thing, again?

 

Oh, right. So he could make everything perfect for Clint.

 

“They look great, Phil,” Clint smiled. Phil loved seeing that smile, but somehow his stomach still flipped unpleasantly at Clint’s words.

 

He knew it was irrational, but then anxiety usually was.

 

“Great isn’t perfect,” he complained, shoulders slumping in disappointment. “Okay, maybe if we do a darker shade for Plan A, then for Plan B I can look into a different vendor. That’ll be better, anyway. We don’t want the flowers to get damaged or dehydrated or anything on the drive from New York.”

 

Clint’s eyes were wide with concern. “Phil,” he signed, “These are perfect. I mean it.”

 

Phil nodded. “Okay, well I should still probably look for a local vendor for Plan B.” He reached for his laptop and pulled it onto his lap to start researching vendors. Again.

 

Before he could finish typing out his search query, though, he felt the laptop shift as Clint gently tugged it out of his grasp. Clint placed the laptop on the couch on his other side, then reached over to grab Phil’s hand.

 

He kissed his fingers before releasing his hand to sign.

 

“Phil,” Clint signed. “These are perfect. For both venues, that’s half of why you picked these people, remember? They have a location that’s like halfway to Vermont. The flowers can handle sitting in the car for a couple of hours. Okay?”

 

Phil breathed. _Right_ , he thought, _that’s true. I do know that._

 

“Okay,” he answered after giving himself a few deep breaths to calm down. “Sorry. I know I’m a mess. I just… I want everything to be perfect. You already have a put up with me, you at least deserve a perfect wedding.”

 

Clint was raising an eyebrow, ridiculing him slightly. “First of all,” he signed. “I don’t ‘have to put up with you’, okay? I _chose_ you. I mean, there were admittedly some complications with _how_ I chose you, but the fact is I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you if I wasn’t 1000% sure that that’s what I want. Got it?”

 

Phil nodded. He did know this – but every so often he thought back to the first six months of what he’d thought was their relationship, and how royally he’d fucked everything up by failing to actually let Clint know he was in this, and he couldn’t help but feel like Clint deserved someone so much better. Someone who not only cherished him, but who let Clint _know_ how much he was cherished.

 

Clint had told him many times that _that_ had never been in question, but he still had to wonder sometimes.

 

“Good,” Clint was continuing. “And second of all, I don’t give a shit if everything’s perfect, okay? You want everything to be perfect? Let’s go down to City Hall right now and get a marriage license, and tomorrow Nat can marry us right here in your office. Because you know what’ll make this wedding perfect for me? Getting to marry _you_.” He jabbed Phil in the chest lightly on the last word.

 

Phil smiled. “Me too,” he agreed. “But I… I guess I just want us to get married properly, you know? Since we didn’t exactly do anything else properly.”

 

“What’s the proper way to get married?” Clint asked, shrugging. “I mean, ten years ago you and I couldn’t even get married legally in New York. So whose definition of what’s ‘proper’ are we using, exactly?”

 

And okay, Phil supposed he could admit that Clint had a point there.

 

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “But I don’t just want to go to City Hall, if that’s okay. I want a party, with our loved ones and everything. I just… don’t want our marriage to be just another piece of paperwork I file somewhere. Is that okay with you?”

 

“Of course it is,” Clint signed, emphatically. “Fuck, Phil, of course. I love you, and this day can be everything you want it to be, I mean it. I just don’t want you to feel like every last detail has to be perfect, because then _nothing_ will be. And like I said, perfect for me just means getting to marry you at the end. Nothing else matters.”

 

“What, not even _when_ you get to be married to me?” Phil smirked.

 

Clint just rolled his eyes. “I waited ten years just to get to be with you, I think I can wait an extra three weeks to marry you if we have to save the world.”

 

God, Clint was so wonderful. Not for the first time, Phil wondered how the hell he’d gotten so lucky.

 

“So,” Clint started, clapping his hands on his lap in a gesture that told him this part of the conversation was over. “What can I do to help? It’s not fair that you’re swamped under all this by yourself.”

 

Phil looked at his binders, eyes wide. There were just so many things, how was he supposed to even start to think through what Clint could do?

 

Clint reached over a plucked a binder off his desk, leafing through it until he found something that, presumably, caught his eye.

 

“Here,” he signed. “I can start with ordering the plates and silverware and shit. Okay?”

 

“Okay. Thanks.”

 

“Ooh! And please can I take charge of cake tastings?”

 

At that, Phil had to laugh. “I actually sort of thought we could do that one together.”

 

“Even better!” Clint agreed. “So I’ll narrow down our bakery choices, and then we can pick a day to go tasting together. Deal?”

 

“Deal,” Phil nodded. “Actually, there is one other thing you could help with. Do you think you could pick out an interpreter for the ceremony? I feel like I’m not really qualified to decide on that.”

 

“I already have the number for my top three favourite interpreters in my phone,” Clint smiled. “Here, I can even message them right now and see who’s available.”

 

“You’re amazing,” Phil signed. “I’m sorry I’m so stressed about all this. It’s not because I have even the slightest doubt about marrying you.”

 

“Hey, no need for apologizing,” Clint shook his head. “You’re stressed because you care. I like that you care. I just don’t want our wedding to make you miserable.”

 

“Okay,” Phil agreed. He thought he might really mean it, too.

 

“Good,” Clint signed, shifting to make room on the couch. “Now come over here so I can cuddle the shit out of you until you feel better.”

 

Phil did.

 

\---

“Hey, what do you want to do about the honeymoon?” Phil asked, looking up from where he was finalizing bookings. He and Clint were sitting in their living room, Clint’s legs stretched out over Phil’s lap as they both worked on wedding plans. “That’s something we haven’t really talked about yet.”

 

Clint reached his arms above his head, stretching his back out. “What did you have in mind?”

 

“Umm…” he started nervously. “I don’t really know. I just – do you want one? Because obviously there’s lots we could do that doesn’t involve sex, but I just don’t want you to feel pressured into something that’s sort of used to symbolize sex, and it’s not something that’s really come up before, so I just don’t know if that would be a boundary for you or anything…”

 

Clint was wearing that sideways smile he always got when Phil said something particularly ridiculous. _Adorable, Phil, I do it when you say something adorable_ , Clint had told him once.

 

“You’re so fucking cute,” he signed now. “And I’m definitely down for a honeymoon. Just no bed and breakfasts where our hosts might get ideas and start making innuendos and shit, yeah?”

 

Phil laughed. “No B&Bs, check,” he mimed pulling a page out of his binder, crumpling it, and throwing it at the trash can in the corner.

 

“That shot would’ve totally missed,” Clint ribbed. The unfortunate thing was, he was almost certainly right.

 

Clint seemed to be looking something up on his phone.

 

“Ooh, here’s an idea!” he signed, looking up. “We should go to the Ice Hotel in Sweden!”

 

Phil groaned. “Ugh, you know I hate the cold.”

 

“Oh, yeah. Okay, I’ll just have to do that with Natasha someday. Hmmm…. What about Disneyland Paris? It’ll be hot, it’ll be in one of the most romantic cities in the world, and we can sneak in at night and inconspicuously replace the Jack Sparrow statues on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride with Elizabeth Swann. What do you say?”

 

“That does sound like fun,” Phil had to admit.

 

“Perfect! It’s settled! I’ll make sure we have access to a quinjet, and I’ll book the park tickets and hotels for after both weddings just in case, and I’ll talk to Steve and Tony about designing and painting the Elizabeth Swann statues so they blend in perfectly. That way even when it goes public, no one’ll be able to tell who did it or whether the change was approved or what, and by the time they realize no one approved it, it’ll be too late and they’ll just have to leave it there. This’ll be great!”

 

“I guess I’ll put in for both of us for the vacation time,” Phil answered, amused.

 

“We’ll need at least a week!”

 

“I can do that.”

 

“Yay! I can’t wait!” Clint threw the binder in his lap onto the floor and jumped up to kiss Phil firmly on the lips.

 

Maybe this whole wedding thing was going to be perfect after all.

 

\---

 

It was the day of the wedding, and Phil was no longer panicking at all.

 

It was as though all his nerves had gone into the planning, and now, finally, he could just concentrate on the one thing that really mattered – he and Clint were actually getting married.

 

They’d woken up comfortably together, as neither of them felt any need to abide by the whole “don’t see the bride before the wedding” thing. That was good, because it meant that Phil got to hold Clint for a while after waking up and think about how lucky he was. They’d gotten dressed in the same room, too, and when Phil’s hands had been shaking with excitement, Clint had tied his tie for him, using the opportunity to sneak in one more kiss before the ceremony.

 

Now they were on stage in front of their closest friends and family, and he was staring into Clint’s eyes as Natasha signed in their peripheral vision, asking them if they took each other as their husbands.

 

“I do,” they both signed in turn.

 

“I gather you have vows prepared?” Natasha asked. Phil was pretty sure she’d played a significant part in helping Clint draft his, so the question caused him to chuckle quietly.

 

It was his turn first, so he took a deep, calming breath, nodded in recognition at the interpreter standing at the edge of the stage, and began to sign.

 

“Clint,” he started, “When I met you on that rooftop over a decade ago, I never could have guessed that we’d be standing here today, getting married. But what I did know immediately was that you were a good man, with a big heart and a strong moral compass, and that in spite of all the circumstances saying otherwise, I could trust you. You radiate goodness and compassion, and the time I’ve spent becoming your best friend and then your partner has taught me that you’re also funny, smart, enthusiastic, and incredibly generous. I’m so glad you decided you were able to trust me too, and I promise that I’ll spend every day for the rest of my life proving to you that you made the right call. I once sent you a Valentine’s Day card that said _I love you unconditionally_ and then had a note at the bottom saying _Terms and conditions do apply_. I want you to know that that’s the biggest lie I’ve ever told you, because no terms and conditions will ever apply to my love for you. You are everything to me, and I’m so excited to get to be marrying you. I love you, Clint.”

 

By the end of his speech, tears were brimming in Clint’s eyes, but Phil knew he could see him just fine anyway. Clint apparently decided he didn’t want to wait until after his vows for the traditional PDA, and leaned forward and kissed Phil, quickly but deeply. Phil certainly wasn’t complaining, and he felt his eyes fill with tears of their own.

 

Clint pulled back, and then it was his turn.

 

“Phil,” he signed. “We got together under… less than ideal circumstances, but we’ve done just about everything under less than ideal circumstances, and somehow we always pull through happier and stronger for it. I know that it’s because, no matter what, we can trust each other to get us through. We’re a team. We’re also best friends, and partners, and the other kind of partners that I didn’t understand for a while, and now I finally get call you my husband. I honestly couldn’t tell you which of those titles makes me happiest, because what matters to me is that whatever we are, we’re together. I get to spend the rest of my life with you, and that makes me the luckiest person alive. I love you, and I promise to show you how much I love you every day."

 

Clint's eyes twinkled, and Phil braced himself for whatever ridiculousness was sure to be coming next. "But I do have some bad news," Clint continued. "There is a bomb at this wedding.” Phil rolled his eyes at that, because _we watched that episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine together, Clint_. “Your butt. Your butt is the bomb. There will be no survivors.”

 

And now Phil understood how Clint had felt moments before, because he absolutely couldn’t wait a second longer. He pulled Clint into another kiss, tears streaming freely down his face. When their lips parted, Phil wrapped his arms around Clint in a tight hug, ignoring the _awwww’s_ in the crowd and focused instead on his _husband_ , and how great was it that he got to call him that after all these years?

 

“I now pronounce you married,” Natasha signed – apparently; Phil wasn’t looking at her, but that was what the interpreter said. So, okay, he supposed _now_ he got to call Clint his husband. Technically.

 

Whatever, he’d be saying it for the rest of his life, a few extra seconds was hardly cheating.

 

“ _We should probably go do the whole reception thing now, huh?_ ” Clint whispered in his ear. _Oh. Yeah. That._

 

Taking one more deep breath, he reluctantly pulled out of the hug, and signed to the crowd, “Go enjoy the food!”

 

Then he turned to Clint. “So, who do you want to wipe the floor with at beer pong this time?” he asked.

 

He shouldn’t have been surprised when Clint instructed him to meet him at the table with Sitwell and Fury.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought! I love reading your comments. :)


End file.
